We figured it out at Knit Night last night. We talk about all sorts of stuff: TV shows we watch [in my case none, as the TV is still not plugged in], which led to the discussion of a new one that William Shatner is in, and how much most of us had liked Captain Kirk, while I was always more enamored of this guy.
Imprinted as a teenager, I was.
I read with some comfort, another blogger’s struggle with forgiveness. Maybe we are doing a better job with the rising generation, because my children seem to be more skilled at it, notwithstanding my checkered example. Or maybe the issue I am struggling with (Man, Behaving Badly) is simply a non-issue with them because of the generally lowered level of civility from when I was their age. Maybe it seems as quaint to them as June Cleaver, vacuuming in pearls.
But the women of my generation, and a little younger? To a woman, the reaction is smite first, forgive the remains. So I am actually ahead of the curve, a little, because I have gotten past the point where I think it would be a great idea if all the women he has treated thus were to line up with cream pies and apply them to his face.
There would be a sudden, and marked, pie shortage in North Texas. People would stand, perplexed, in bakery departments from here to San Antonio as hordes of middle-aged women marched triumphantly toward the checkout lines. Strong men would weep at having to settle for a cold-storage apple and a slice of cheese for dessert. Toddlers would wail, “But I ate all my broccoli!”
Do you see how good I am being? At great personal sacrifice?
Thank you. That’s all I wanted to hear.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!